


Something I've Never Said

by frosty_grass



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Boys In Love, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, M/M, no beta we die like men, physician merlin (sorta)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:46:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28622781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frosty_grass/pseuds/frosty_grass
Summary: When Arthur is injured by bandits, Merlin tends to his wounds. Fluff ensues.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 169





	Something I've Never Said

**Author's Note:**

> I've discovered my most creative time of day is between 11pm-4am, which is why I wouldn't be remotely surprised if this is littered with typos.   
> I guess this is set around the time of the early part of Season 4? Not exactly sure lol  
> No beta, all mistakes are my own.

Merlin heard it, even from where he was standing. A sickening, wet thud that for a moment, he couldn’t place. The noise was not one familiar to Merlin. But when it was immediately followed by a shout of pain and anguish that was so unmistakeably _Arthur_ , he was running towards the sound before he even realised what he was doing. It took him a moment to spot where he was, through the fray of knights and swords and bandits and bodies. But his golden hair was so distinct, like a halo of sunshine as he collapsed heavily to the ground.

Merlin skidded to a halt next to his prince, falling to his knees with a rough thud that left them stinging, but he didn’t notice.

“Arthur!”

“Merlin – behind you –“ Arthur gritted out, staring wide-eyed over Merlin’s shoulder. Sure enough, when Merlin turned, the man who had fired the crossbow bolt now buried grotesquely through Arthur’s thigh was bearing down on him, hatred written across all his features. Panic rose quickly from Merlin’s gut to his throat, and when the flash of gold lit his eyes it was almost instinctive. The man tripped, seemingly over his own feet, and sprawled across the track, vulnerable – the tip of Leon’s sword appeared from nowhere and buried itself in his back, stilling his movements and pushing a strangled cry from his throat. Merlin watched in horror as the man’s eyes glazed over and blood began to trickle from his lips to pool on the ground, creeping between the leaves and grass like tiny, monstrous serpents.

“Is he okay?” Leon’s voice broke Merlin from his staring; the knight’s kind, concerned eyes flicking between himself and Arthur’s wound.

“Leave – leave him with me. Just, keep them away.”

Leon nodded, task laid out ahead of him, and disappeared back into the brawl with a determined shout.

Merlin whipped back around to inspect the wound, but to his alarm Arthur was trying to get to his feet.

“Arthur, stay –“

“I need to fight, Merlin!”

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

As if to prove his point, another gush of blood leaked down Arthur’s thigh and he collapsed to one knee with a grunt, supporting his weight on his sword, face contorted in pain.

Merlin assessed the situation, trying to ignore the hammering in his chest and the dread settling in his stomach. It appeared as though the knights would win the fight, eventually, but Arthur couldn’t just lay here whilst the outcome was determined. He would be a sitting duck.

Cursing himself for the day he moved to godforsaken Camelot, Merlin made a decision. Kneeling beside Arthur, he pulled his arm across his shoulders and, with more effort than he was expecting, hauled Arthur to his feet.

“We need to get off the path, out of sight.”

“You can’t carry me, Merlin.”

“I’m stronger than I look.”

“You’re always full of surprises, aren’t you?” Arthur smiled faintly, then winced as the pain rushed through him again, leaning heavier on Merlin.

Together they made their way, as quickly as possible, over a ridge, collapsing into a ditch behind some bushes. Breathing heavily, Merlin disentangled his limbs from Arthur’s and checked back to see that they hadn’t been followed.

Satisfied that they were alone, he turned back to Arthur, nimble fingers undoing the scarf around his neck and twisting it into a close approximation of a tourniquet.

“Merlin, what –“

“Sorry, Arthur. This is going to hurt.”

He didn’t give Arthur time to process his words. Instead, he leaned down and pulled the fabric as taut as possible around Arthur’s upper thigh, repeatedly yanking it tighter until he was certain the blood flow from the wound was slowing. Arthur took it admirably, the only signs of his pain being his gritted teeth, tense jaw and handfuls of grass tugged up as he tried to find something to hold onto, before eventually settling for Merlin’s sleeve.

Complicated knotting complete, Merlin sat back and admired his handiwork. Never one to let pain steal away his charisma, Arthur spoke up to tease him.

“Not bad…for a physician’s apprentice.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. _“Thanks._ Maybe if you let me out of your chambers every once in a while, I’d do better.”

“Maybe you should spend less time insulting my intelligence and more time actually _doing_ your chores, then.”

“Arthur?”

“Yes, Merlin?”

“Shut up.”

Arthur feigned offence, with a muttered ‘ _that’s my line_ ’, before Merlin shook his head, grinning, and went off in search of a few vital herbs and plants. The sounds of metal clanging against metal had largely died down, and a quick look over the ridge told Merlin that the immediate danger had passed.

Now, the biggest threat to him was Arthur’s injury. Thigh wounds could often be fatal, Gaius had told him – the blood loss could be massive. But luckily, Arthur seemed not to be bleeding excessively. The best Merlin could do now would be to wash and bandage the wound with a simple poultice, then get Arthur back to Gaius. He would know what to do.

A few minutes later, plants in hand, he returned to a much paler-looking Arthur. Bile began to rise in him again at the thought of losing his prince – he quickly shook his head to dispel the ghastly imagery his mind conjured up – and he quickly set to work, chewing leaves into a paste as he tried to work out the best way to fully stop the bleeding.

“Here.” He handed a handful of leaves to Arthur. “Chew on these, it’ll help with the pain.”

“Merlin –“

“Just do it.”

“I don’t need you to –“

“You’re hurt. Badly. Please, just let me help.”

Merlin watched the battle rage behind Arthur’s stormy blue eyes.

“Arthur, do you trust me?”

That was an easy question, and his answer came instantly. “Of course I do.”

“Then let me help you.”

Arthur sighed, giving in to the idea that maybe, this once, he needed Merlin, not the other way around.

Merlin worked quickly, snapping off the excess crossbow bolt but not pulling the shaft from Arthur’s leg, fearful that it was the only thing holding his life’s blood inside his body. He felt Arthur’s gaze on him the whole time as he ripped his breeches open to reveal pale, bloodstained skin, cleaned the wound as best he could, and applied a chewed-up salve with tender fingers, apologising every time Arthur hissed in pain. He looked around for something he could use as a makeshift bandage, but found nothing except his own clothing.

Sighing, he removed his jacket and glared at Arthur. “If the bloodstains don’t come out of this, you’re buying me a new one.”

“Consider it done.”

Arthur’s last word turned into a grunt of pain as Merlin wrapped his jacket around the wound, applying pressure and tying it securely. He took a deep breath before oh, so slowly, loosening the tourniquet and allowing the blood flow back to the wound.

He was in luck, it seemed – no fresh blossoms of red bloomed through the brown fabric.

“We need to get you back to Camelot. Gaius will know what to do with you. Here.” Merlin offered a hand to Arthur, helping him gently to his feet and doing his best job of pretending that the blush rising to his cheekbones was from exertion, not the closeness of Arthur or the way he smelled of sweat and fresh grass.

The knights turned to them as they stumbled their way down the bank, Percival rushing forward to help support Arthur’s weight. Between them, he and Merlin managed to get Arthur back on his horse – a fraught few moments in which Arthur nearly broke the bones in Merlin’s hand from squeezing too hard – and before long, the party were making their way back towards Camelot, and safety.

Merlin had never been so glad to see those lofty white towers rising from the green trees ahead.

***

That evening, after the rush of getting Arthur back to Gaius’ chambers, properly treating his injury and dealing with an Uther who was equal parts worried, angry and disappointed, Merlin had collapsed into his chair for dinner and raced his way through a large bowl of his favourite stew.

He hoped Gaius wasn’t noticing the way his eyes kept straying to Arthur, snoring gently on the patient bed, frown creasing his handsome features even as he slept. Today had tested Merlin’s nerve to the limit, and quite frankly he just wanted to pass out from exhaustion, comforted by the knowledge that Arthur was safe and nearby.

He nearly choked on his stew when Arthur stirred, shifting slightly on the bed, and mumbled something that sounded all too much like Merlin’s name. He faintly registered Gaius’ imperious raised eyebrow, but his heart stopped momentarily in his chest when Arthur spoke again, and this time it was clear as day.

“Merlin…”

Gaius, with a tiny smirk that Merlin didn’t notice thanks to his being too busy staring at Arthur, stood from the table and cleared away his own dinner things.

“I should deliver Uther’s tonic, for his shoulder. I trust the king’s son is safe in your hands?”

“I – what, sorry?” Merlin jerked his attention back to Gaius.

“Nevermind. I’ll return in an hour.”

Merlin’s heart was in his throat as he the door clicked shut behind the physician, leaving him suddenly alone with Arthur. He sat for a few minutes, transfixed by the steady rise and fall of Arthur’s chest, the sliver of skin and fine golden hair showing through the unlaced gap in his shirt. The blanket they had given him was strewn around his legs – as it turned out, Arthur was a fidgety sleeper.

Tearing his gaze away, Merlin made to put the dinner things away and tidy the chaotic mess that had been created during Gaius and Merlin’s heroic efforts to remove the crossbow bolt, stem the bleeding and wrap the wound. Merlin’s chest flushed with warmth as he remembered the way Arthur’s eyes had found his own, fearful and panicked, before fingers quietly interlaced with his when Gaius’ back was turned. Something had felt different between them today, a closeness manifesting in gentle touches and lingering gazes, and as such Merlin hadn’t let go the whole time Gaius was treating the wound. He was fairly certain his fingers would be bruised tomorrow from the strength of Arthur’s crushing grip, but he didn’t care. It felt almost like he carried a tiny piece of the prince with him, a tiny piece of his pain, his fear, his trust.

“Merlin?” A gruff, groggy voice broke the silence. Merlin spun around to find Arthur watching him with an intensity that almost made him uncomfortable. The flickering firelight danced across his skin, softening his face and casting shadows under his jaw.

Merlin cleared the lump from his throat, and made his way to sit in the rickety wooden chair at Arthur’s bedside.

“How do you feel?”

“About as good as you would expect to feel after taking a crossbow bolt in the leg.”

Merlin pretended to think about it. “No, can’t say I’ve experienced that one. Maybe next time you shouldn’t stand in front of men with crossbows.”

“Maybe next time you shouldn’t run off and hide in the trees like a girl, Merlin. Who knows, maybe you will find out what its like.” He gestured to his leg.

“You know, I think I’m alright. I’ll just stick to what I’m good at.”

“Oh, and what’s that?”

Merlin scrambled for an answer. “Putting up with you.”

Arthur cocked an eyebrow, and for a moment Merlin wondered if he’d gone too far. But then the prince’s face broke into that dashing smile, the one that made Merlin weak at the knees every time he saw it.

“Fair play to you Merlin, you’ve managed this long in my service. I think it’s a record.”

“I can’t imagine why.”

Their easy laughter settled comfortably between them to a simple soundtrack of wood crackling on the fire.

For a moment, Merlin stared into the flames, contemplating just how differently today could have gone. He could have been killed in the ambush. Or worse, Arthur could have been killed. It didn’t bear thinking about.

“Merlin?”

“Yes?” His tone was distracted, but Arthur’s fingers suddenly holding his chin brought his full attention crashing back down onto the man in the bed before him.

“I...I want to say something I’ve never said to you before.”

Merlin stamped down on the soaring feeling in his chest that seemed set alight by Arthur’s gentle touch. “Is it ‘thankyou’? Or maybe, ‘oh, Merlin, you did well back there, have a day off’?”

Arthur grinned, but wasn’t deterred. “No. It’s neither of those. I intend never to say either of those things to you.”

“Oh. What was it, then? It can’t be that important, if it doesn’t end in me getting a day off.”

“ _Mer_ lin.”

“Yes?” Suddenly he noticed just how serious Arthur’s expression had become. His heart sped up in his chest, unprepared to hear whatever it was that Arthur was about to say. It could be any number of horrible things. Maybe he’d seen Merlin’s magic, or he was firing him, or -

“I love you.”

Merlin’s thoughts stopped in their tracks, and the ability to speak seemed to leave him just as quickly as the breath from his lungs. He hadn’t been expecting _that_.

“Oh.”

The incredulous look on Arthur’s face would normally have been enough to set Merlin off into fits of braying laughter.

“…’oh’? Is that really all you have to say?”

Merlin faintly registered the growing trepidation in Arthur’s eyes, the way his touch became less confident, fingers slipping slowly from his skin. _Surely_ this was a dream? Or some sick enchantment cast on Arthur when Merlin hadn’t been looking?

But the honesty, the vulnerability – rare emotions from Arthur – were so clear in his body language that Merlin knew, he just _knew._ He was telling the truth.

“Merlin?”

His name came drifting through the sudden, overwhelming haze in his mind like a whisper, trying to get his attention.

“Merlin? I’m sorry, I –“

But Arthur didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence, because Merlin’s lips were on his, clumsy and harsh yet warm, and desperate.

Arthur froze for a moment, seemingly in as much shock as Merlin had been in moments earlier, but then melted like butter into Merlin’s touch. It felt so right, so natural, like this was what they were meant to have been doing all along.

When eventually Merlin pulled back, breathless, he found Arthur’s gaze searching his own, wide-eyed in something akin to wonder. The prince looked so _pretty_ , he thought, kiss-swollen lips and wild eyes, and it took him a moment to gather his wits enough to speak.

“Arthur?”

“Yes?”

He cocked an eyebrow, licking the taste of Arthur from his lips. “This may come as a surprise to you, but…I love you too.”

Arthur snorted, beaming. “Idiot.”

“Clotpole.”

There was a brief pause. Then, “Merlin?”

“Mmm?”

“Shut up.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you got this far, thanks for sticking with my late-night musings! Kudos is always greatly appreciated if you enjoyed this story, and as usual if you have any constructive criticism or things you really loved, please let me know in the comments!  
> Love to you all x


End file.
